


I'll help you heal

by The_Last_Librarian_from_Gallifrey



Category: Supernatural, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Friendship, Magic, Other, bit of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 13:48:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30022704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Last_Librarian_from_Gallifrey/pseuds/The_Last_Librarian_from_Gallifrey
Summary: On a stormy night, (Y/N) goes to the Salvatore house to help Stefan. However, since the storm is still too strong, they stay and have an open conversation with Damon the rest of the night.
Relationships: Damon Salvatore/You
Kudos: 1





	I'll help you heal

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there ! This takes place around season 2 of Vampire Diaries. First time writing about the show so I hope I captured Damon’s personnality well enough for you to recognize him. Also tried to make a gender neutral reader. I wrote this to clear a concept I’m developping ; “The Soul Healer”. It's a small crossover with Supernatural ;). It has probably been done before, but eh. I posted this on Tumblr too. Anyway, here's some indications just in case :
> 
> (Y/BF/N) = Your Best Friend Name
> 
> (y/e/c) = your eye color
> 
> Hope you’ll enjoy it !

Weather in Mystic Fall tonight was a bitch. Life in Mystic Fall was a bitch. Mystic Falls was a bitch. Trying to keep a secret, especially a supernatural one, turned out to be quite though at times. The lot of troubles concerning vampires, werewolves and witches blew to (Y/N)’s face and their best friend when they first came to town. They knew that stuff was about to go down fast, but THAT fast? And hard? Unbelievable. Nothing in their short French magician’s lives prepared them for this. Not even (Y/N)’s Men of Letters training. Their initial missions were to settle, observe, and help Bonnie develop her powers.

The mission quickly dissolved as they got mixed up with the whole Doppelgänger problem, the threating shadow of Niklaus and the immediate threat that was Elijah.

Fortunately, calm days were a thing, even here. This day got to be a part of these : a stormy Wednesday of teaching programming/designing websites to motivated high schoolers (adding a bit of self development and French into it) . (Y/N) never thought they’d be fit for teaching, but it turned out to be a positive experience for how they dealt with others. Also, pretty helpful considering who they befriended. Out of the all bunch, their colleague Alaric Saltzman, a history teacher, seemed to be the most “normal” person. And in normal, “not supernatural” is implied. (Y/BF/N)’s life partner too, since they were human with no powers.

With a soft sigh, (Y/N) pulled out of the school parking lot, drenched to the bone by the heavy rain. A little too heavy for their liking.

_I just hope that I won’t be stuck at the boys’ house tonight._

The streets were nearly empty from any life forms, only leaving unfortunate folks without an umbrella to run for a shelter, soaking their feet in the enormous puddles forming on the sidewalk. The rain was scattered, but the raindrops rather thick. Finally arriving to their shared house, (Y/N) ran inside.

(Y/BF/N) was standing over the sink, washing up some dishes. “Hello there. How was your day at school ?”

(Y/N) huffed and took an apple. Their best friend turned around while drying their hands.

“Not bad. And that rain…

-Not natural. Bonnie ?”

(Y/N)’s (y/e/c) eyes closed, taking a bite of the fruit. “I knew something was off last night.”

They both laughed. The night before, (Y/N) tried to teach Bonnie how to have a safer and stronger connection with Nature for spells, with some European Celtic magic. Heavy doubts were clouding their mind on how the magic would react with a Salem witch descendant still in training and… Well. (Y/N) finished their delicious fruit, before dumping its remains. “I need to go to the Salvatore’s Boarding House tonight. Stefan needs some help with the Java Script lessons I gave. And apparently his website is a mess, so yeah.”

(Y/BF/N) wiggled their eyebrows at them. Pointing their index to stop any word from coming out of their friend’s mouth, (Y/N) exhaled. “I’m helping a student, not shagging his brother. Please don’t.” Letting other laughs out, they both went back to their tasks at hand after a quick hug. Once in their room, (Y/N) took a shower to warm themself up and thought.

During their Men of Letters Training, one thing became clear. No matter how hard it was for them to feel comfortable with people they didn’t know, (Y/N) could feel the auras of the soul in need of help. In their young years, providing help was the first thing they thought of. The more they discovered how the world worked, the more their determination to help grew, but so did their mistrust in others. Living in a context of violence towards supernatural beings amplified it as teenager. The only person they could trust was themself or the organization. But as they neared the end of their training, mostly gravitating towards healing more than fighting, they finally knew the title that they wanted to bare in their community: a Soul Healer.

As a soul healer, angelic power was an energy frequently manipulated; only they have the ability to see souls. Manipulating it was a dangerous task if malicious purposes were intended. But a clear and purged mind would not risk a thing. Seeing the soul, its light, its scars, its darkness, and understanding what it needs was the first step. The healing part could be achieved directly (bonding, trusting, talking…) or indirectly (talking to friends and family on how to help the person to get better).

The first time (Y/N) met the Salvatore Brothers, Elena, Caroline and Alaric, the only soul that stood out was the elder brother’s one, Damon. Stefan’s too, but something about the raven haired vampire caught their eye : deep still opened scars roaming over his fading blue soul. Some were already closed, like his little brother, unfortunately others seemed to have reopened very recently. A part of them knew what they had to do, but a conflict came into view, a moral one : as someone who was raised to kill every supernatural threat to humanity, wasn’t bonding with vampires a bit ironical ? For a Hunter or certain branches of the Men of Letters, it clearly was. Blasphemous even. But each time this question popped in their head, (Y/N) remembered the vows they made at the title giving ceremony.

_A soul is a soul. I shall heal and protect. No matter who, no matter what, no matter when. I will not dishonor my rank, nor my protectors. The Angels are watching over me, a user of their power. If my last breath comes in duty, I will welcome Death as friend and not an end. If not, these vows shall be honored throughout my life, no matter how long it shall last._

A crystal-clear answer. They believed in the good side of people, no matter how deep it was buried. Human or Supernatural Being. Damon was going to get (Y/N) help. The only thing left for the process to begin was his approval.

Tonight’s goal though was to make sure Stefan did not mess up with his computer to the point of destruction. Seemed just as difficult as soul healing. After a relatively long shower, (Y/N) packed their things, praying hard for the rain to not flood the streets; or for Stefan to understand soon enough for them to get back home. The journey to the boarding house worried our dear little magician even more, cursing under their breaths for choosing Celtic magic the night before. The water had started flooding, but not enough to block the small road with a gigantic pothole leading to the boarding house. Happy to finally park in front of the house, (Y/N) knocked, enjoying the smell of the rain and the sight of the courtyard. The door opened to Damon wearing his signature grin.

“Well, what a nice surprise. Hello Froggy.”

(Y/N) rolled their eyes but smiled. He stepped to the side to let them in. The first few times they were around each other, things were awkward. (Y/N) never encountered someone teasing them so much (especially a soul they wanted to heal), and Damon felt oddly comfortable. Trusting people was not a piece of cake for him. So befriending AND trusting a magician, faster than he did with Bonnie? Red Flags. Was it because (Y/N) wasn’t a Bennett? Or because they didn’t threaten to kill him the moment they met? Hell, because they came from the other side of the ocean? He never found the answer and stopped searching for it. For once in his life, someone in the ranks of his sworn enemies actually did not see him as a monster.

“You know, I thought, _they teased as they took of their coat_ , why not surprise you in the middle of the week with a visit.”

Damon hummed. “Lucky me.” The vampire approached them before poking their nose. They both scoffed when eye contact was made. The sarcasm was the best but most infernal character trait of this man. “Stefan’s upstairs. Have fun.” He strolled down the hall to plop himself down on a couch, a glass of Bourbon in his hands. Steading their bag on their shoulder, (Y/N) joined the other Salvatore for the tutoring session. As they passed by, a nagging thought came to Damon’s mind. He needed an answer. The rain outside was getting heavier by the second, slowly shifting to a strong storm, (Y/N) completely oblivious to it.

(Y/N) was about to lose their mind. Patience was one thing. Sleep was another. The mess Stefan made with his project was on a whole other level of informatic monstrosity. His computer crashed so many times that they could not start to comprehend how the device still worked. They were both ready to run out of patience and fall asleep, when they finally solved the problem. A little victory cry escaped (Y/N)’s lips, while Stefan buried his head deep inside his hands.

“How come, in 150 years of life, living through informatic progress, HOW did you not take interest in it before ?” They both laughed. A lighting illuminated the room. It briefly snapped (Y/N)’s attention back to the weather. Gathering their things, they joked with Stefan around for a little, before encouraging him to take a shower and go to bed. It was almost midnight when they finally strolled down the stairs back to the entrance. Sighing, (Y/N) started to put on their coat when Damon stopped them. “Where do you think you’re going ?!”

They turned to the vampire frowning. “Home ?” His hairs were wet, but not his clothes.

Damon opened the door the moment a lighting stroke, a gush of wind freezing the magician. (Y/N) jumped back, only to then see that the rain was much heavier than anticipated. The tires of the car probably got stuck into the muddy courtyard by now. “The pothole down the road is deep, full of water.” He closed the door.

(Y/N) put their hands in their pockets. “You checked ?” The vampire glared at them. “This storm is way too violent for me to let you drive through it. Not even sure your car can to drive out of the yard. So as a concerned friend, I’m vividly encouraging you to stay.” The magician sighed, tired. Celtic magic was a bitch. “Plus you came to visit and spend the entire evening with Stefan. So I think I’m due a bit of attention.” Hanging their coat and putting their bag back down, (Y/N) frankly laughed. “You’re such an attention whore.”

Damon took a sip of his Bourbon, before shrugging. “I’m **your** attention whore and you love it, sweetheart. Jasmin Tea ?” Walking towards the living room, the French teacher smacked his arm., before bowing down slightly. “Please, Fangs.”

Damon’s company helped (Y/N) forget all of their problems (the storm too). He surprisingly didn’t drink too much, just enough to stay sober and enjoy the magician rambling. The two of them slumped on the couch, he watched their face twist as the story of Bonnie messing up with Celtic magic unfolded. His bourbon swirling inside his glass, (Y/N)'s cup empty on the coffee table, the fire crackling near them, the rain calming down as the hours passed. Again, as always, the feeling of comfort filled the vampire’s body. His friend ended their story by a soft laugh. He jumped on the occasion.

“My God, could it be you’re saint? Clumsy one, but could it? I gotta ask though : you help, You heal people’s soul, etctera etctera, but who heals yours?”

No one ever asked them this question. Not even once. (Y/N) looked at him, confusion written all over their face. “Soul healers aren’t taught to think about this we…” Eyes drifting to the fire, their brain processed the information, finding the right words to explain. “Soul healers are expected to be selfless. We know how to keep ourselves in the best mental state possible, since it’s one of the most important requirement of the healing : being here for the hurt soul.”

Damon’s eyebrows shot up; he straightened. “Wait wait.” His glass hit the table, his mind focusing on his friend. “You have no rights to show that YOU are hurting, to doubt or to ask for help ?”

(Y/N) sighed, facing him. “Well, yes and no. We have to understand and have our own doubts in order to give the soul a vision of life. External help isn’t usual; when we are in a really bad state, we ask other soul healers.” They rubbed their face. The vampire was incredulous. “Soul Healers are supposed to have a strong façade, give other a feeling of comfort and hope. Supposed. Basically, if a soul healer is in a bad place, they need to go see and ASK one of their own. In theory, the only one able to heal us is…us.”

After a moment of silence, Damon exhaled. “So when you… ‘graduate’ and get the title, you are on your own. You do your magic and all the talking to help others, until one day, you realize that you have been neglecting your mental health or soul, or just you in general. Once you’re healed, you jump right in ‘til the next burn out.” His brows furrowed, astonished. “That is NOT good, especially if I’m able to notice.”

The magician teared up, a dry laugh escaping their mouth. If only he knew. “This was the major downside to it.” A small tear ran down their cheek, quickly whisked away by the back of their hand. “But I chose this because nothing else felt right. Finding my calling was inevitable as Men of Letters. The only way out is death, unless your parents refuse for you to be a Legacy.” Damon narrowed his eyes to the last sentence. “A Legacy is someone that gets the right from their family to learn Men of Letters knowledge.”

The raven-haired man watched the flow of emotions passing through now fragile looking French teacher. One of their hand went in their hairs, scratching their scalp. With a shaky voice, they continued. “But that’s who we are. I chose not to make physical fighting the major part of my life.” A feverish laugh escaped their mouth. “Believe me, things could have been much different. Like half of your group of friends dead by my hand for example.”

The vampire shook his head, eyes closed, only to sharply reopen them at the sound of (Y/N) standing up. Their hands on their hips, trying to not let any sobs out. Eyes closed and in front of the fire, the magician let all their thoughts pass through their mind. The worst, the nightmare giving ones, the heart-breaking that they always went through when in doubt. The conversation could only have gotten here; them on the verge of tears, in front of the soul they wanted to heal. Then, like an answer to the silent questions they always asked themself, realization hit (Y/N) : Yes, Damon was a soul they wanted to help; yes, they befriended him. But what if for once, this very soul could help them in return ? Why not ? Why always ask the same people, the ones that do it for a living ? How was that a bad thing ? No one ever gave them a good enough answer to these.

A loud sob filled the room. Damon got up. Chick flick moments were not his thing, but as always around them, he knew what to do and felt comfortable doing it. Both of his hands found his friend’s shoulders, gently massaging them. The sudden contact startled (Y/N), still deep in thoughts, making them turn around. Their eyes met.

“I never should have told you that. I’ve never told anyone. Not even (Y/BF/N).” A heavy silence fell.

“But I thank you for doing so. Keeping it to yourself isn’t good. I mean, that’s what everyone says to me all the time.” The hug he pulled them in made the magician silently cry. “You’ve helped us - _me_ , so much. The least I can do is… give it back one way.” In his arms, his friend listened closely, their tears falling faster by each word. “I don’t know how to do that but I… I guess I’ll just try.” A small sob followed by a giggle put a smile on the vampire’s face.

“You don’t have to.” (Y/N) said with a hint of French in it. Damon scoffed, as they parted a little, his hands still on their arms.

“I know ! But I’m feeling generous tonight, you know, since you stayed up so late with me.” His sarcasm was unbearable. They both laughed.

“And the fact that I didn’t kill you when I came in town.

-Yeah maybe. Yeah that could explain my sudden burst of kindness.” It was the magician’s turn to scoff.

A gentle ray of sunlight illuminated the room. At this sight, (Y/N)’s eyes opened wildly. Not only did the storm stop, but the sun was rising. They stayed up all night, literally, and School was about to start in an hour or two. Cursing loudly, they ran to their bag, putting on their coat, leaving Damon behind. Before opening the door, they turned around. He was walking towards them.

“School, me not ready, none of my stuff, I’ve gotta run. Hum… Thanks for last night, or this morning. I’ll come get my car this evening. Bye ! ”

Not only did (Y/N) came for her car, but without having Damon noticing, they put a little package in front of his bedroom, filled with blood bags and a brand new bottle of Bourbon. At the bottom, he found a note that read :

_“Thanks, Fangs, I owe you one.”_


End file.
